The Horseman's Frontier Family

by Karen Kirst

  Gideon let his head fall back against the pillows. Thank goodness the ferocious headache that had plagued him since the accident had lessened to a manageable ache. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

  Clint skidded into the room. “We’re ready for you, Gideon. Cabin’s all been put to rights. I’ve two men waiting to help us carry you over.”

  Gratitude warred with embarrassment. Would the entire town be standing by to watch him being paraded across the field? He simply couldn’t fathom being the center of all those eyes, not lying flat on his back, anyway.

  “I’d like to walk.”

  His brothers shared a long look. Clint nodded. “Lije and I can each take an arm. We’ll support you.”

  Relief flooded through him. And something deeper, truer. As they eased him to his feet, he admitted, “I don’t say it often enough, but I’m a fortunate man to have you two for brothers. Couldn’t have made it through without ya.” They all knew he was talking about what happened in Kansas.

  Accustomed to such sentiment from his parishioners, Lije simply smiled. Clint flushed and looked away, saying gruffly, “You’re not so bad yourself, big brother.” Then he plopped Gideon’s black Stetson on his head. “Awfully bright out there.”

  Emerging from the stable, Gideon was glad of the hat. After being cooped up in the tack room, the cheery spring sunshine hurt his eyes. As predicted, folks had stopped what they were doing to watch. He searched the crowd for Evelyn.

  There. Her silken hair flowing down her back, the top half pulled up and secured with a peach ribbon, she stood willowy and graceful on the cabin porch. An exotic bloom, lovely in a shade of apricot that set her olive skin to glowing and gave her large eyes a mysterious bent.

  During the long, slow, excruciating trek, he kept his gaze trained on her as if she were a prize at the end of a race. Hopefully those he passed thought he was focused on his new home and not on the woman who’d stormed into his life not even a month ago, calling him every name in the book and vowing to fight him for this land, who along the way had taken up residence not only on his property but in his heart.

  The admission—though it was only in his mind—made him stumble. His ribs protested. The pain jerked him back to reality.

  Don’t go there, Thornton. The feelings you have for Evelyn are merely admiration for her spirit and strength, bolstered by the chemistry that exists between you. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Gideon clung to that rationalization of what she meant to him, praying he hadn’t gone and done something stupid like falling for the Chaucers’ sister.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Evelyn couldn’t help feeling a tad sentimental. Walking through Gideon’s new home, seeing the details Cassie and the others had seen to—blue curtains at the windows, crocheted hand towels in the kitchen, Gideon’s Bible placed front and center on the rough-hewn coffee table—she experienced a bittersweet gladness. He deserved a home such as this and yet, if he followed through with his plan, he’d be living here alone for the rest of his life.

  Once again her thoughts turned to his lost child, and she ached for him. Gideon should have half a dozen kids running around, little boys he could teach archery to and little girls he’d teach how to rope and ride.

  Blond hair flashed in her peripheral vision and Katrine joined her at the window beside the kitchen table.

  “You look...how do you say it? Oh, yes, lost in thought.”

  “Just admiring the view.” From this vantage point, cottonwoods swept alongside the meandering stream, a sea of green grass stretching for miles.

  “Ja, it is a nice view.” Twisting slightly to admire the cabin’s bright interior, Katrine said, “And a cozy home. Home is everything, is it not?”

  “Yes, it is.” And I don’t have one. Not sure when or if I ever will have a home of my own.

  Turning back, Katrine trailed a finger along the shimmering glass. “I guess this cost a pretty penny. However, it is worth the cost. I should have insisted Lars put windows in our cabin.”

  At that moment the big Dane’s boisterous laughter spilled from the single bedroom where he and a few other men had gathered around Gideon’s bed.

  Evelyn smothered a mystified smile. Three weeks ago Gideon would’ve been horrified at this invasion of his privacy, not to mention the townsfolk’s charity. He’d changed, she acknowledged with some surprise, just as she had.

  She recalled the strange intensity of his gaze as he’d hobbled as nobly as he could manage toward his home. She’d wondered if he meant to repeat his argument in front of everyone. But he hadn’t. Upon reaching her, he’d looked momentarily uncertain, then uttered a soft thank-you for her ears alone.

  Foolhardy as it was, she’d wished everyone away so that she could have him all to herself, just the two of them crossing his threshold for the first time.

  “I should go and check on Walt.” She turned to look at Katrine. “No doubt he needs a good washing before bed. The tack room will need to be put to rights, as well.”

  Katrine nodded. “It appears many are preparing to leave now that Gideon is settled.”

  The yard was a flurry of activity. While women packed up food baskets, their husbands loaded tools in the wagons. Walt and Dakota frolicked with the dogs, whooping and hollering with abandon. A delightful sound to her ears.

  “Thank you for your help, Katrine. Lars, too. Everyone has been so wonderful.”

  “You are thanking us for helping Gideon?” A worried frown pulled her pale brows together. “I see that you care about him and he for you. What will you do if the judge grants him legal ownership of the claim?”

  She squared her shoulders, determined not to heed the sinking sensation threatening to suck the life out of her. “I will return to my brothers.”

  And she would make the best of the situation, would build the best possible life for her son.

  * * *

  By midmorning the following day, boredom was setting in. Gideon had eaten a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham and biscuits—alone. He’d invited Evelyn to stay and eat with him but she’d declined, claiming a long list of chores to tackle. Afterward he’d read a week-old Guthrie newspaper from front to back. He’d napped an hour or so, and now here he was at ten o’clock, twiddling his thumbs and staring out the window.

  While it offered a nice view of the side yard, it couldn’t hold his attention. The quiet of his new home bothered him.

  So when a short, dark-haired visitor knocked on the door and called his name, Gideon sat up straighter, ignoring the ache in his ribs.

  “Come on in, Walt.” He smiled encouragingly. The boy had seemed a mite intimidated by his injuries. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  His eyes surveyed Gideon’s chest, covered by a button-down gray shirt, and the rest of him, tucked inside a red, white and blue quilt. His thin shoulders eased when he didn’t see physical evidence of the accident.

  “Mama wants to know what you want for lunch.”

  “I have a choice?”

  He held up two fingers. “Rabbit stew or fried chicken.”

  Gideon relaxed into the feather-stuffed pillows, satisfaction wrapping around him like a hug from a long-lost friend. He was having a conversation with Walt, something he’d begun to think would never happen. Thank You, Lord. “Hmm, let’s see. How’s your mama’s fried chicken?”

  A smile cracked through the shyness. “Very good.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll choose. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  “I’ll go and tell her.”

  Gideon’s gaze fell on a set of checkers he’d had since he was a teenager. “Uh, Walt?”

  He spun back.

  “Do you like to play checkers?”

 
; Nodding vigorously, he said, “Uncle Brett teached me.”

  Smiling at the blunder, Gideon asked if he’d like to play a couple of games once he’d spoken with Evelyn. He barely replied before he shot out the door, boots pounding on the front porch. Walt was back in five minutes, his eager presence chasing away the tedium of the sickbed.

  They established a pattern over the next few days. Walt joined him after breakfast for an hour of checkers or cards and then again after lunch when they’d peruse books together. The five-year-old climbed into his bed, lugging the big encyclopedia that was his favorite. Evelyn had obviously worked with him, for he knew the names and habits of many of the animals they read about. Gideon was impressed with his knowledge.

  By Friday he decided he’d had enough of Evelyn’s evasiveness—something that had developed the day he moved into this cabin. He hauled himself out of bed, stepped into a clean pair of trousers and, because he couldn’t manage a fresh shirt, wore the one he’d slept in. Socks were also out of the question, so he greeted her barefoot and in desperate need of a shave.

  Her lips parted and her eyes rounded when she caught sight of him seated at the kitchen table. The tray in her arms wobbled. “Gideon, I didn’t expect to see you out of bed.” Circling the couch, she set it down with a thump, sloshing coffee over the mug’s rim. Shoving a hand on her hip, she demanded, “Should you be up? Did Alice give you permission?”

  “I’m tired of being in that bed. Tired of a lot of things, actually.”

  Her brows knit together. “How is your back?”

  “Not bad.” It itched and pulled and made him want to throw something.

  Moving behind his chair, she leaned close, and the scent of gardenias enveloped him. Her fingers slid through his hair. His eyes drifted closed, and he clamped his lips around a sigh of pleasure.

  “Your head wound looks to be healing well.” Was that a tremor in her voice?

  Putting the table between them once more, she clasped her hands behind her back. This morning she’d paired a serviceable black skirt with a gray-and-white paisley blouse, and her thick hair had been pulled into a tidy French braid. He’d thought her beautiful the first day he saw her, but she was even more lovely now that he knew her.

  “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll leave you to your meal.”

  “Stay.”

  Her head bowed. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? Evelyn, have I done something to offend you? Have I hurt you?”

  “We have a court date,” she blurted, her eyes a swirl of emotion.

  Gideon slumped in his chair. A court date.

  “A soldier stopped by. He said our case will come before Judge Martin in two weeks.”

  “I see.”

  The aroma of bacon and johnnycakes slathered with butter and molasses turned his stomach. No wonder she’d been distancing herself. In a few short days, their futures would be decided. This...friendship would come to an end.

  “This soldier... It wasn’t Strafford, was it?”

  “No, someone else. A man I haven’t met before.”

  Why wasn’t he excited? Clearing his throat, he searched her features and came up blank. The emotions in her eyes were too muddled to distinguish one from another. “This is what we’ve been waiting for all along.”

  “Yes. It will be good to have things sorted out,” she said carefully. “We can finally move forward.”

  Forward. Without Evelyn. Without Walt. Why did such a notion slice deeper than any of the wounds he’d sustained? And why didn’t he care more about losing the land than he did about losing them?

  * * *

  Evelyn tipped the dirty wash water out of the pail, squinting in the afternoon sun. The hours since their morning conversation had dragged by, her mind replaying Gideon’s stunned response to the news. How different things were compared to that first day and their heated confrontation. Recalling the hateful slurs she’d hurled at him then, she blushed with shame.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong about him.

  Glancing toward his cabin tucked amidst the trees, the verdant backdrop lending the rough-hewn logs a golden hue, sunlight glancing off the windows, she wondered what was keeping Walt. His hour-long visit had stretched into two. What if Gideon was tired and in need of a nap?

  She was a mess—dirt smudges clung to her hem and her skirt was damp from washing clothes—but there was no time to change.

  There was no answer to her soft knock on the front door. Easing it open, she called for Gideon, her gaze going immediately to the bedroom. Propped up against the pillows, Gideon pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to the boy curled up on the quilt beside him. She walked through the living room and stopped just inside the bedroom. Walt slept soundly, round face innocent and peaceful.

  The moisture glistening in Gideon’s eyes caught her off guard.

  She rushed to the bed and smoothed locks of hair away from his forehead. “Are you in pain? Should I get the medicine Alice left for you?”

  Capturing her hand, he held on tight. “I am in pain, but it’s not what you think.”

  Ignoring the internal warnings to keep her distance, she returned the pressure. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I—” He visibly swallowed, blinked. “I had a daughter. Her name was Margaret, but I called her Maggie from the beginning.”

  Her pulse sped up. His anguish became her anguish. Gently lowering herself onto the mattress so as not to disturb Walt, she said quietly, “What was she like?”

  Gideon’s sudden smile twisted with grief. “She was a ray of sunshine, always giggling and dancing about. Maggie was never still. When—” He swallowed, as if struggling to get the words out. “When she smiled, her entire face lit up and her eyes sparkled. It’d make you happy just to look at her.”

  The love he had for his daughter shone through his tears. If Walt hadn’t been there between them, Evelyn would’ve been tempted to recline beside him and take him in her arms, hang propriety’s rules. Instead, she attempted to offer comfort through their joined hands.

  “She sounds like a delightful little girl.”

  “She was my whole world,” he gruffly admitted. “When I lost her, I wanted to die, too.”

  Her own tears threatening, she ventured, “How old was she when...?”

  “Four.”

  Nodding, she broke eye contact to gaze at her precious son. Being around other children must be a terrible reminder of what he’d lost.

  As if he’d read her mind, he said, “At first I didn’t want anything to do with Walt. I hadn’t spent time with any kids since Maggie. Too painful. But I found I couldn’t resist his beseeching brown eyes, the sense I got that he wanted to communicate but just couldn’t. Spending time with him the last few days, talking with him, has been wonderful. You have a special little boy, Evelyn.”

  Her smile wobbled. Gideon loved Walt. The evidence was there in his eyes. And the fact he’d risked his life for him. What she wouldn’t give for a father such as this for her son!

  “He is a gift from God.”

  Grief marred his features. “I was angry at God for a long, long time. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve come to accept that railing at Him, cutting myself off, won’t bring Maggie back. She was a gift, one I wasn’t ready to let go of. I’ve had to remind myself that Jesus loves her more than I ever could.”

  Tears slipped down Evelyn’s cheeks. She freed her hand from his grip, then caressed his stubbly jaw. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  “Talking about her, with you, makes it a little easier to bear.”

  Evelyn cried harder then. Walking away from this man was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gideon and Evelyn rocked on the porch in chairs that were a gift
from his brothers. He’d avoided his bed as much as possible the past three days, preferring this chair, where he could breathe fresh air, listen to the birds chime overhead and watch squirrels darting up and down the tree trunks. He could never tire of this view—never-ending fields that would eventually produce wheat and corn, the stream that supplied the ranch with valuable water and fish, the corral where his horses grazed.

  You may be leaving this soon. Ever since she’d informed him of the court date, the unknown niggled at his peace, forced him to consider his options—none of them easy.

  “Mama! Gideon! Watch me.” Walt waved his hands in the air to get their attention. He’d been romping in the grass with Lion and Shadow the past half hour, no doubt hoping to postpone bedtime. The supper dishes were cleaned and put away, and the sun nearly kissed the horizon.

  “You have ten more minutes before bed, young man,” Evelyn called in warning.

  Gideon glanced at her profile, noting the tension about her mouth, the whiteness in the knuckles gripping the armrests. The stress of their situation was showing. They didn’t speak about the dispute, but it hovered in the air like an invisible poison.

  He could scarcely believe he’d told her about Maggie. He hadn’t told anyone.

  Must’ve been the compassion in her eyes, the knowledge that she shared his hurt, his grief, in a way that no one else ever had. What that meant in the way of his feelings for her he was afraid to face.

  “Look, Mama! Uncle Theo and Uncle Brett are coming.”

  Evelyn’s anxious gaze shot to Gideon, then sought out the two approaching riders as she eased to her feet. He stood more slowly, praying a confrontation could be avoided. He wasn’t fit to tussle with a groundhog in his current state, let alone two Chaucers. His gun belt hung just inside the doorway, out of reach.

  One positive was that Reid hadn’t accompanied them. Brett was the most levelheaded Chaucer, and while Theo carried a grudge for the broken nose Gideon had gifted him with all those years ago, he was smart enough to know when to back down from a fight.